_Benedicite_! Mrs O'Rourke is a little too apt to fleer
and jeer at the priests; and if it were not that she softens down her
pertinent remarks with a glass or two of the real poteen, which proves
some respect for the church, I'd excommunicate her body and soul, and
every body and every soul that put their lips to the cratur at her door.
But she must leave that off, as I tell her, when she gets old and ugly,
for then all the whisky in the world sha'n't save her. But she's a fine
woman now, and it goes agin my conscience to help the devil to a fine
woman. Now this Mrs O'Rourke knows everybody and everything that's going
on in the country about; and she has a tongue which has never had a
holiday since it was let loose.
"'Good morning to ye, Mrs O'Rourke,' says I.
"'An' the top of the morning to you, Father M'Grath,' says she, with a
smile; 'what brings you here? Is it a journey that you're taking to buy
the true wood of the cross? or is it a purty girl that you wish to
confess, Father M'Grath? or is it only that you're come for a drop of
poteen, and a little bit of chat with Mrs O'Rourke?'
"'Sure it's I who'd be glad to find the same true wood of the cross, Mrs
O'Rourke, but it's not grown, I suspect, at your town of Ballycleuch;
and it's no objection I'd have to confess a purty girl like yourself,
Mrs O'Rourke, who'll only tell me half her sins, and give me no trouble;
but it's the truth, that I'm here for nothing else but to have a bit of
chat with yourself, dainty dear, and taste your poteen, just by way of
keeping my mouth nate and clane.
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